Burning Man -- Logs

The twelfth day passes with the camp still on somewhat heightened alert. There are still guards heavy on the perimeter when the angels head back to their own tent. The night is cool and an overcast sets in that threatens rain on the last day of the festival.

Before the sun has peeked over the horizon, there's a quiet scratching at the door of the tent. Rosenstern rouses himself a bit from the snuggle pile, peeking his head up above the blankets and looking blearily at the door. Shateishael yawns lazily, half-awake and very content with both lovers sprawled relaxedly over him. Eventually he rumbles a relaxed, "Yeah?" He casually strokes Rosie's tousled hair back from his face, grinning with quiet affection at how incredibly cute the sleepy Mercurian looks!

"It's me, Bacchus. You decent in there?" the satyr asks, voice pre-dawn quiet.

Shateishael mumbles a touch confusedly, "'Course we're decent. We're angels. C'mon in if'n y'wan'."

The flap opens and Bacchus ducks in, looking a bit sleepy. His voice is soft, "Soma wanted me to ask if the three of you wanted to be there for the sunrise ceremony. He's been a little addled lately and forgot to mention it in the excitement last night."

Shateishael grins relaxedly, "Loveta. Allus try t'greet th'lady as she rises." He glances down inquiringly, murmuring to his sweethearts, "Y'all wanna come too, b'loveds?" He adds quietly to Bacchus, "Thanks f'comin' t'tell us."

Rosenstern nods excitedly, coming more awake at that. "Oh, yes, definitely!"

Bella rolls onto her back and smiles blearily up at Bacchus, "'Course. We'd be honored."

Shateishael sits up carefully so he doesn't dump anyone, and stretched out an arm for a pair of shorts... then pauses, noticing Bacchus isn't dressed, "This clothin' optional, 'r whut?"

Bacchus smiles at the sensual, happy tumble of bodies, hands crossed casually in front of himself, "The whole camp is clothing optional. I was only wearing my kilt so much recently to be respectful of people who don't mind nudity but might find tumescence somewhat off-putting." His eyes are twinkling slightly, "He also wanted me to ask if any of you wanted to be bearers of offerings in the ceremony. It's an old ritual of tribute. Water. Bread. Wine. Things like that are offered up. Saying thanks for another year."

Shateishael nods (with, admittedly, a bit of relief) and doesn't bother with shorts, then. At Bacchus's query, though, he raises a thoughtful eyebrow, glancing at Rosie. He looks back at the satyr, rumbling, "Who're whut's th' ceremony to, please?"

Bacchus looks surprised, "The sun. Most of the life on the planet depends on it. It's the physical embodiment of the spiritual Light. Anthropologically speaking, of course. It's a symbol."

Shateishael nods in calm agreement with Bacchus's assessment of the sun's importance, "Works 'at way f'me too, yeah. Light 'n Stone -- th'Lady 'n m'Bright Lord." He thinks a moment... then smiles at his lovers, "Well, dunno 'bout'chall, but I wouldn' mind greetin' her properly 'gain." He looks up at Bacchus from where he's sitting, "'At be 'kay wi'tchall?"

Bacchus nods and glances at Rosenstern, murmuring, "I thought you especially might like to be the water bearer, Flowerkin."

Shateishael nods, gently running one large, calloused hand over Rosie's side, "Yeah, 'n bet Soma'd love t'see ya there, sweet blossom?"

Rosenstern blushes, smiling sheepishly. "I would like that. Thank you."

Shateishael nods, rising carefully from the tumble of blankets. He leans to offer a hand up to both lovers, "Cool. Ya'll wanna?"

Bacchus nods and smiles, "We'll be out in front of the pavilion. You've got about ten minutes."

Shateishael says, "Thanks, guy." Rosenstern smiles and nods, accepting Slate's hand and letting him be pulled up, letting the lift carry him smoothly against Slate, purring contentedly. Shateishael gently nuzzles the top of Rosie's head. After a hug he'll take a quick moment with his lovers to brush their hair, make sure they're all awake, and (if any of them want) are properly decorated or dressed. He himself doesn't bother with any clothing or decoration past his usual Thor's Hammer and the new ring from Bella, letting his bright gold hair hang loose down to about the middle of his back.

Bella thinks about it for a moment and puts on her golden-colored belly-dancing belt and a heavy gold chain, leaving her own ring in place. Shateishael beams and kisses the top of Bella's head once she's ready too, then rumbles, "Y'all look so beautiful..." His happy sigh finishes the sentence -- his usual implied, 'What did I do to deserve this?!'

Rosenstern laughs softly while he's putting on what's little more than a few translucent silk scarves that are certainly not for modesty. He kisses Slate warmly once he's done. "You're beautiful too, you know, love."

Bella nestles herself against Slate's side as Rosie kisses him, smiling, "You look like you could be Apollo, you know... all tanned and golden-haired..." She gets a little distracted, trailing her fingers down the small of Slate's back.

Shateishael rumbles contentedly into the kiss, gently running one large, warm hand down the curve of Rosie's back and sliding his other arm about Bella... he chuckles relaxedly at Bella's comment, "Ain't that proud, but thanks, sweetheart, f'th' compliment." Then he glances happily at both lovers, "Y'all ready t'go?" He'll hold the flap open for them both, and walk hand in hand with them if they'd like. He's deeply happy to be there with them.

When the triad reaches the front of the pavilion, they find most of the Ethereals gathered in a circle several bodies deep. Most of them are bare to the skin, a few wearing golden jewelry or other yellow adornments. In the center of the circle is a round wooden table with a mosaic of yellow, orange, and red tiles inlaid to represent the sun. Inscribed around the edge are words in several languages. English is recognizable and says simply 'radiance.' Soma, like most of his people, is mostly bare but wears a cloth-of-gold sash around his waist and a golden circlet with a teardrop-shaped citrine dangling over his third eye. In the circle with him are Peony, Ayra, Rose, Lily, Bacchus, and an unfamiliar male sidhe with radiant rose-pink wings and skin.

Shateishael easily glances over the heads of those present, from the back of the crowd... then grins down at Bella -- the shortest of the three, "Wanna sit on m'shoulders so y'c'n see, beautiful?" He adds cheerfully, "Ac'shly y'both can, if'n y'wan'?"

Bella grins and holds her arms out to Slate, "Sure. Want to watch Rosie being all ceremonial."

Rosenstern blushes, grinning shyly at Bella's words. "I'm not sure I even know what to do."

Bella grins at Rosie, "I've been to a few things like this. Usually you just follow along."

Shateishael chuckles, easily scooping Bella up and setting her on his shoulder. He keeps one arm wrapped about her thighs so she's secure, and tilts his head to Rosie, "Y'need a han' t'get inta th'circle there, 'r whut, pretty flow'r?"

Soma is quietly conferring with the other Ethereals, handing each of them something. There are several small vessels with liquid or other things in them on the table -- one for each of the people inside the circle, plus one. Rosenstern fidgets a little, biting his lip, then steps forward a little into the circle. Shateishael rumbles quietly to the Ethereals in front of Rosenstern, "Bitta room there, please?" Aside from that, though, he leaves Rosie to make his own way, since the little Mercurian didn't ask for any assistance.

Some of the Ethereals shift, opening a way through to the center of the circle. The Summer Lord glances toward the movement and smiles, "Flowerkin, welcome..." No one inside the circle is dressed in more than a few pieces of jewelry and filmy cloth. He raises a yellow clay bowl full of clear water, offering it to Rosie. Rosenstern blushes, smiling to Soma and bow-curtseying a little bit, accepting the bowl solemnly and carefully. Soma leans in close, murmuring, "Water is last, sweetling. You'll have a chance to see what happens." He steps back and smiles down at Rosie, trailing his fingers down Rosenstern's side. Each of the others is holding a similar bowl. Rosenstern shivers a little with the touch, and nods to soma, blushing clear down to his chest.

Shateishael absently strokes Bella's thigh with his free hand, smiling faintly. Bella can't help squirming a little. Ceremonial or not, having her thigh stroked is distracting. Shateishael murmurs quietly to Bella, "Don' they all look s' pretty, Bellisima?" He brightens, noticing his little golden peony pendant on Peony, and grins at himself, resisting the urge to wave. Then he chuckles, watching the fair-skinned Mercurian inadvertently clearly demonstrate his emotions so! He hums an ancient song of thanksgiving quietly to himself as he watches. His arm braces Bella a bit more when she wiggles, although he's distracted enough that he doesn't register it's him causing her to wriggle, and he keeps gently stroking her thigh.

Ayra and Peony guide Rosie around to the west side of the table. Ayra stays with him there; the bowl she's holding is filled with burgundy wine. Soma is directly across the way in the east. In his hands is a bowl filled with glowing embers covered in something that emits a pungent smoke. Peony stands with him holding a bowl of dandelion fluff. In the north are Bacchus and the unknown sidhe. They each hold vessels, one full of what looks like playa sand, the other of something that might be salt. In the south Rose and Lily hold bowls, one with a wick floating in what must be oil, the other filled with tiny pieces of what looks like ash. Rosenstern glances around, seeing some of the correspondences. Each corner of the circle holds some sort of element, related to the other elements as one goes around the circle, at least, he thinks.

As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, Bacchus and the unknown sidhe step forward, the winged Ethereal speaking first, voice surprisingly resonant for such a slim chest. "From earth grows that which sustains us. You draw it forth. For this we give our thanks." He raises his bowl toward the sun and then turns, pouring it into a large vessel that looks made of beaten gold in the middle of the mosaic table. Bacchus then steps forward, speaking quietly in Greek and then repeating himself in English, "Without you, life has no savor." He follows the sidhe's motions, the contents of his bowl joining the first.

The two males step back into their places in the north, and Soma and Peony step forward. The Summer Lord holds his bowl upward toward the sun, speaking in a lilting, unfamiliar tongue and then, like Bacchus, repeating himself. "You warm the air around us and brighten our skies with joy." He turns and pours embers and all into the bowl, carefully making sure they snuff themselves in the sand and salt. Peony takes her turn, holding the vessel upward and speaking in Gaelic, then repeating herself in English, "You urge the flowers from their beds and smile as they dance on the wind." Rather than pouring, she carefully moves the fluff from small bowl to the larger.

Soma and Peony resume their places, and Rose and Lily move forward. Lily holds her bowl upward and Rose speaks for her, "You spark our imaginations and paint the world with gold." The oil and its wick join the other contents of the sacrificial vessel as Rose rolls forward and holds up her own bowl. "You are eternal change, eternal growth. Sweet light and burning heat. You are the balance that is all." Her tiny, light rocks join the rest of the offerings as the two side take their places back in the south.

Ayra reaches for Rosie's hand and whispers, "Ready, hon?" Rosenstern swallows and nods to Ayra a little nervously. Ayra steps forward and holds her bowl of wine upward, singing wordlessly for a moment. She doesn't actually speak, just smiles glowingly before pouring the wine into the vessel on the table. Rosenstern has a sudden concern for what he might say about water. Ayra whispers softly, "It doesn't have to be anything special. Just say what you feel."

Rosenstern nodnods, then takes a soft breath as Ayra steps back. When people are done, he pauses, then says in German (his first mortal language) and then in English, "You bring about the cycles of water, drawing up the shrouding mists and bringing down the life-giving rain." And he carefully pours the bowl of water into the large urn.

Shateishael grins a touch proudly, whispering to Bella, "Ah, ain't that nice? Li'l Rosie's gotta lovely turn a'phrase." Bella is a little misty-eyed and nods, stroking Slate's hair.

When Rosie and Ayra have stepped back into place in the west, Soma steps forward and holds his hands up toward the sun, which is showing clearly over the horizon, calling out in a ringing voice, "Our Joy and Light, we welcome and thank you. The fire of life is yours." As Soma speaks, the entire assemblage turns toward the sunrise, holding their hands up, facing the sun. Many of them have their eyes closed and faces upturned. Some of them are murmuring softly. Rosenstern looks to the sun as well, taking in a soft breath as he feels the rising sun fill him with Essence, murmuring softly the prayer he does to greet the sun in the morning. Shateishael smiles, also turning his gaze towards the rising sun, and sings wordlessly to greet the sun, just as he does every time he's in Celestial form. Bella reaches up toward the sun and laughs happily, wiggling her toes as she feels her Essence increase.

The reverence holds for a long moment, and then, slowly, people lower their arms. Soma turns around in a full circle, smiling, "Thank you, my loves, my people, for sharing another year with me. Go; enjoy your day. Tonight we celebrate our lives." Shateishael is still alight with the joy of dawn -- his gaze returns only slowly to the other Ethereals. He stands solidly, sunlit, with Bella resting easily on his shoulder, and practically glows with the joy of sunrise in this new and wonderfully growing community. There's a general happy murmur as the circle disperses, leaving the eight people in the center with the golden bowl. Shateishael will pace slowly through the circle, taking his time so he gets in no one's way. Once he's there he smiles down at the small group.

Soma is looking heavy-lidded, almost intoxicated. Rosenstern feels very happy and comfortable after the ceremony. It was simple, but it had deep, rich meaning. He is quiet, but quietly giddy, standing with the group. Shateishael bows his head slightly to the flower ladies, careful not to jostle Bella on his shoulder, then grins and winks at Peony, and smiles contentedly at the others. He's not getting the same rush as the Summer Lord, but there is a lovely high at being amongst community like this. Peony grins and winks back at Slate. Soma turns and smiles at the small group, voice soft, "Thank you all. There is great joy in being the voice of a people."

The leprechaun scampers off, calling after her cousins. Bacchus explains in her wake, "She's going to help them prepare for the handfasting."

Shateishael glances around once before looking back at the group, watching Peony depart with a hint of wistfulness. He looks back at Bacchus, "Whose handfastin'?"

Ayra looks shy, "Mine. Both of the boys are going to stay with me for the next year while I carry the baby."

Shateishael smiles at the dryad, "Ma'am, congratulations. 'At soun's lovely, 'n please y'all feel welcome t'come 'n visit, 'kay?"

Ayra laughs, blushing slightly, "Thank you, Slate. I should probably follow them..." She moves around the small remaining circle, hugging those that want. Shateishael will gently set Bella down so she can give a hug too if she wants, and will gladly accept one from Ayra when the dryad offers. Bella happily hugs Ayra and grins at her. Rosenstern beams happily and hugs Ayra warmly, wishing her the very best and congratulating her.

Soma takes the vessel with the sun's offerings and smiles, "This will be with us tonight during the other ceremonies. With humans this might be mostly symbolic, but with us it can be imbued with a lot of energy. The sunrise fills it."

Shateishael looks curious, "How's it work? This like glamour 'r sumpin'?"

Bacchus walks with Soma, murmuring, "More like fuel for glamour. Everyone contributes. We didn't want to ask it of you, since you extended yourselves so much in the battle yesterday."

Shateishael says, "Um... 'splain a bit more, please?"

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side curiously as he looks at the vessel. "So that's what powers the Tether? Or the Dome?" he asks curiously.

Soma smiles at Rosenstern, "Neither. This will help power the Becomings tonight and the handfasting bonds. It makes the whole Court part of those changes."

Rosenstern ohs! "I see! That's rather wonderful, actually..."

Shateishael rumbles puzzledly, "I don'. How's it work, 'n how c'n y'all contribute, if'n it's th'sun's 'ffect?"

Soma heads for the pavilion and Bacchus trots forward, pulling the flap open for his Lord. Soma laughs softly, "The sun is symbolic. It's... a little piece of the energy we all get from the sun..."

Shateishael says, "Then how d'y'all contribute?"

Rosenstern says, "Sort of like Essence, I think? It's... kind of like a bunch of Stone angels working together for something for a community."

Soma's face brightens as he carries the vessel to the center of the pavilion where another table has been set up in front of the Tether pole, "Yes! That's the word I've heard!"

Shateishael says, "Oh, okay. Um..." he thinks a bit, reviewing how much essence he has -- only one, since he'd returned the essence he'd gotten from Rosie, "well... if'n y'all really need it, s'ppose I c'd help?"

Bacchus shakes his head, not quite scowling, "No. You worked very hard for us yesterday. You have all contributed a great deal to this Court."

Shateishael studies Bacchus thoughtfully for a few moments, then rumbles, "Well, don' wanna see anyone not be able t' b'come cuz y'r meditations were innerupted, 'r y'all're short an essence, y'know?"

The previously unintroduced sidhe smiles, "We are not likely to be short. This is more the icing than the cake."

Shateishael nods, "'Kay. Jus' checkin'." He studies the sidhe thoughtfully, then rumbles, "'M Slate. Nice t'meetcha."

The rosy sidhe offers his hand and smiles, "Stieg."

Shateishael shakes hands, "Lovely wings y'got. How y'all get all th' diff'rent colors?"

Stieg flares his wings as if showing them off, smiling, "Perception, I think. I have something of a romantic, soft nature."

Rosenstern blinks, perking his ears at the name. "Steig? Zu sprechtrn sie Deutsche?" He looks to Slate, beaming. "His name means 'Rose'!"

Stieg looks happily at Rosenstern, "Ja wenig. Ich bin rostig." His wings flutter a bit.

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Wuz beautiful ritual this mornin', true." He wonders idly how Soma kept from being attracted to so many other pretty Ethereals... then raises an eyebrow at Rosenstern, smiling, "Really? Good taste in names too then, yeah?" He looks curiously at the rosy fae, "You one 'a th'folks th'Rosebud met at that fairytale castle?"

Stieg grins as Bacchus and Soma speak quietly together, settling the vessel on a stand of oak and brass that looks like it was made for just that purpose. Stieg smiles, "I was named by someone else." He looks at Rosie and blinks, eyes widening, "He's that angel?"

Rosenstern blinks, looking curiously at Stieg at Slate's question, then blinks and blushes really deeply, biting his lip shyly and nodding. Shateishael smiles, putting an arm around Rosenstern, "None other."

Stieg smiles, "I saw him and the others there. I didn't look this way, then. I looked more like this..." He shimmers, glamour changing him. He actually grows taller, his wings fade away and his skin shifts from rosy pink to faint, pearly green. His eyes look more human, pupils and irises appearing in sclerae of white. The clothes he wears look like something out of a medieval painting of a faerie.

Shateishael huhs interestedly, "Y'all change a lot then? Mus' be innerestin' t'keep changin' how y'r vessels look. How'd Soma look then?"

Stieg laughs and shimmers, body changing again. The face he wears is recognizably Soma, but the skin is pale almost to the point of translucence with what looks like specks of shining gold metal just beneath the surface. The eyes are again more human, with amber brown irises and thick golden lashes. Blonde hair with streaks of honey-brown is braided down the back, the tip brushing the backs of his knees. His clothing is less medieval; more latex and leather. "Like this..."

Shateishael raises an eyebrow again and grins down at Rosie, "Well now... c'n see whutcha saw in 'im, pretty flow'r!"

Soma turns from the table and startles a bit, muttering, "Oh, my..."

Shateishael chuckles quietly. Rosenstern blinks again. "I... kind of recognize you from the castle-" He breaks off, blinking as Steig changes, and blushes, very much liking the appearance and clothing of Stieg. He nods, swallowing. "Yes, that's... very much how Soma looked like!" He glances to Soma, smiling sheepishly to him.

Soma smiles and rests his hand on the back of Stieg's neck, looking almost nostalgic, "This is very much how I looked when I first met the sweet Flowerkin, yes. Stieg is one of our archivists. He has a memory like a book and is one of the best practitioners of visual glamour we have."

Shateishael nods, "Darned impressive, yeah." Rosenstern nods, his blush going a lot further than his chest.

Bacchus steps up on the other side of Stieg, "In fact, Stieg is probably third or fourth in line to the throne."

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at Bacchus, rumbling in a neutral tone of voice, "Innerestin'..."

Soma leans close to Rosie, murmuring in his ear, "I can wear that seeming for you again if you would like, my sweet."

Rosenstern blushes, smiling up to Soma and smiling. "I will have the same feelings and desire for you no matter what your seeming, my Lord."

Stieg shimmers back into his rosy self, rolling his eyes at Bacchus, "Lady forbid."

Shateishael grins at Steig, "Why's 'at?"

Stieg laughs and shakes his head, "Because that's far too much responsibility for me."

Shateishael smiles slowly, "Guess y'll jus' hafta keep th'folks b'tween ya 'n th'throne safe then, yeah?"

Stieg smirks, "Hopefully, Somhairle will stay on the throne until the sun burns out. Because I might have to try and be responsible if fuckhead -- I mean Gaelach -- takes over."

Shateishael gives a half-stifled snort -- then laughs aloud at that! He grins, reaching out and companionably slappping the fae's shoulder, "Like y'r style, Steig!" Rosenstern stifles a soft giggle at Stieg's words.

Stieg smirks, stumbling a half-step forwarding as he's slapped by Slate, oofing, "Shit. You're a strong one."

Shateishael looks a bit embarrassed, putting an arm out to catch the fae if necessary, "Er, sorry 'bout that."

Stieg laughs and sways a little, but stays mostly stable, "I need to get going. I'll be back for the ceremonies."

Shateishael nods, "Nice t'meetcha." After the fae has left, he looks curiously at Bacchus, "Take it he's y'r choice after Soma?"

Bacchus watches Stieg go and smirks, "No, not really. He's a good guy and completely irresponsible."

Shateishael chuckles, "Yeah? So why'd'ya mention his standin'?"

Soma smiles quietly, "To let you know he's powerful."

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side. "Powerful?"

Shateishael curiously rumbles, "'At important?"

Bacchus nods, face serious, "Powerful. Soma is good at seemings and bindings. Gaelach is good at charms. Stieg remembers almost everything he's ever seen or heard, and he can almost effortlessly imitate anyone he's ever met."

Shateishael says, "Whut'sa charm do?"

Soma says quietly, "It can convince people to do things they wouldn't normally, or draw them to people they might not normally be drawn to."

Rosenstern frowns. "That... sounds dangerous..."

Shateishael says, "Ah, like th' li'l undine used?" He looks puzzled, "Wuz hers really weak 'r sumpin'?" He pauses, then rumbles slowly, "Wait... how's he use 'em? He ever use 'em t'persuade women t'sleep wi' 'im?"

Soma and Bacchus look at one another for a moment, "Deirdre is quite skilled at charms," Bacchus says, "But she really may have just been trying to nudge you toward something she thought you already wanted."

There's another of those looks, and it's Soma that speaks this time, very slowly, "We have not been able to prove such."

Shateishael looks puzzled again, "So y'r sayin' she used a bad one on me, 'r sumpin'?"

Bacchus shakes his head, "No, I'm saying she wasn't trying to make you do something you didn't want to do. She was trying to urge you to do something she thought you desired."

Shateishael goes silent as he studies the two fae... then rumbles slowly, "But'chall suspect it then? How come th'women involved don' say anythin' if'n they got forced?"

Soma sags a little and Bacchus answers, "Because he may have convinced them to think it was their idea."

Rosenstern gently touches Slate's arm. "Among mortals, it's all too common to not report... assault like that out of embarrassment or shame. Sleeping with Gaelach might not be the most... welcome thing someone might have as their reputation."

Soma nods quietly, murmuring, "That, as well..."

Shateishael nods to Rosentern, his face stony, "Ah." He looks back at the two fae, "Y'wanna know th' truth?"

Bacchus says, "What truth, Slate?"

Shateishael says, "Whether they're telling jus' th' truth as they remember it, or th' actual truth. Ain't easy, but I c'n tell sometimes."

Soma says softly, "It's hard to know the truth is being hidden when not even a lie is being spoken."

Shateishael stares evenly at Soma, "Th' Symphony knows, Soma."

Soma blinks slowly, "You can tell what the truth is, even if no one is trying to speak it, or speak otherwise?"

Shateishael says, "Sometimes, yeah. Like I said -- ain't easy, but c'n tell th' real truth sometimes, even when th'speaker don' know they dunno." He remembers Cerberus, the strange fae from yesterday morning, and rumbles quietly, "Or when they think they know, but they know wrong."

Bacchus speaks quietly, "If that were something you could do.... it would help." Soma nods thoughtfully.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at Bacchus, "Jus' said so. Happens... mm... 'bout sixth a' th' time. 'N I c'n tell if'n they know they're lyin' pretty commonly."

Rosenstern adds, "As an Intercessionist I can sometimes tell the nature of the relationship between people, and... that might help as well, a bit.

Shateishael nods, glancing down at Rosie, "'At'd be useful too, yeah."

Bacchus and Soma look at one another thoughtfully. Bacchus is the one that speaks, "I think both of you might be useful. I wouldn't ask it tonight, but perhaps at the next court..."

Shateishael growls quietly, "Be happy t'slap down anyone lyin' t'folks like 'at."

Rosenstern says, "Or taking advantage of anyone like that."

Shateishael says, "'At is lyin', Rosebud." Bella has been silent, but she's been scowling slightly. Shateishael adds, "It's d'ceivin' 'em." He takes a deep breath, then growls, "Pisses me off."

Bacchus murmurs, smirking, "As if he didn't do that already."

Shateishael says, "He ain't pissed me off d'rectly yet. But if'n he's doin' this f'real..." he takes another slow breath, then shakes his head, "Gonna wanna hurt 'im f'that."

Rosenstern says quietly, "There's lying and then there's taking someone when they wouldn't want to be with you in the first place. I know you value truth above all, and in a way it is lying, but to me there's degrees. And there's little worse than... a rapist. There. That's basically what he is if this turns out to be true." Bella makes a little growling sound.

Once the discussion of Gaelach's possible violations has been wrapped up, Soma explains to the angels the glamour will be in full force during the Burn. He also explains that the Man is quite visible from outside the pavilion when it's burning. That done, he asks the angels if they have any questions or if there's anything that's making them nervous, and assures them they needn't be in the camp for the ceremonies if they don't wish. Shateishael looks puzzled, "Whut'chall plannin', that we might be nervous?"

Rosenstern shakes his head. "I've no questions," he says, then smiles. "And I want to be in the camp." He looks to Bella and Slate curiously, to see what their feelings are.

Soma smiles and shrugs, "There will be bindings and other things going on. I did not see how it would be something that would make you nervous, but I have guessed wrong before tonight."

Bella grins, "Are you crazy? I wouldn't miss watching Ayra's handfasting for a million bucks."

Shateishael nods firmly, "Me either."

Soma smiles, seeming pleased, "Good; it pleases me to hear it. The glamour will go back into place tonight at sunset. People will begin arriving then. Most of the ceremonies will take place out of doors, but some will be inside. The crossings-over will be inside sheerly because that is where the Tether is located." Shateishael nods, listening with interest. The monarch goes on, "Rose and Lily have asked to cross over for this year, as have some few others. Oh... and Karl and Ajax asked if I would ask the three of you to go by their camp before sundown."

Rosenstern nods, listening. "I think we can do that.

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Gonna miss gettin' t'see th' flow'r ladies at th'ranch. Guess we'll hafta wait till next year t'sing 'em C'lestial healin'." He nods at the request, "Sure, we c'n do 'at." Bella nods, agreeing with Rosie and Slate.

Sometime in the afternoon the three angels make their way to the centaur's camp, which isn't difficult with it being in such close proximity to their own. Karl is, as he often is, outside at his forge, working on what looks like horseshoes again. Shateishael grins and waves, "Hey, Karl! How goes? Y'all wan'ed t'see us?" Rosenstern walks with Bella and Slate, wherever possible (and not interfering) close and touching with them. Shateishael slides an arm around Rosie, reacting with pleasure -- almost unconsciously, in fact -- to the slight Mercurian's closeness.

Karl nods his head and continues working on the shoe, "Ayuh. Got the last part of the gifts for ya'll. 'S really somethin' ya'll needed for the Winter Court, anyway." He looks over his shoulder and whistles sharply, calling out, "Ajax! They're here!"

Rosenstern blinks. "For the Winter Court? What would we need there?"

Ajax appears from the large tent that has been serving as his and his uncle's shelter for the length of the festival. He's grinning and carrying a tray covered in black velvet, such as jewelers use to display their wares. "Amulets, with Soma's hair. Marking you as emissaries."

Shateishael mutters something under his breath about sharper knives, in reply to Rosie's comment... but mostly keeps it to himself. He nods to Ajax, studying the tray with interest. Rosenstern ohs! -and nods, "I remember that now.

On the tray are three simple silver chains with delicate silver pendants. The pendants are circular and look like hollow lockets. The filigree work allows the barest hint of cobalt blue to be seen, where they enclose the locks of Soma's hair. Each is identical and each hangs on quite a long chain -- at least twenty-eight inches. "I wanted to make them for you," Ajax admits. "Wanted you to go in there with something of beauty from my hand."

Shateishael looks up at Ajax and smiles, "Already got sumpin' beautiful from y'r han', Ajax. Th'silverwork's gorgeous!"

Rosenstern beams to Ajax, "They're beautiful, Ajax -- very well done!"

Ajax smirks slightly, "Yeah, but this is an official something." He holds the tray out and lets the angels take the pendants, "Thank you, Flowerkin. They'll keep you safe, I hope."

Shateishael carefully picks up one of the chains and turns to settle it over Bella's head and on her shoulders, if she doesn't mind. Bella ducks her head for the pendant and smiles up at Slate, "Thank you, lover."

Shateishael's eyes warm as he studies Bella for a moment. Then he looks down at the pendant, rumbling, "Looks nice on ya, beautiful."

Bella smiles and rests a hand on Slate, "You're biased. Help Rosie with his?"

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "May be biased, but 'm still a Seraph." He runs the back of one finger along Bella's jaw line in a gentle caress... then nods and turns to the tray again, "Sure. Here, li'l flow'r." He'll set one over Rosie's head also, laying it neatly on the Flowerkin's chest. "Howzat?"

Rosenstern grins softly and gathers up his hair to let Slate settle the locket and the long chain upon him. "It's perfect," he says, smiling.

Shateishael smiles at the little Mercurian for a slow moment... then reaches for the last pendant. He looks gravely at Ajax, "You been there. This gonna help as much as Soma seems t'think it will?"

Ajax looks at Slate for a long moment, then says, "It will show that you are who you say you are. Bran will trust that his brother-self was not harmed in procuring them. That, he would remember."

Shateishael raises a thoughtful eyebrow... that sounds like a qualified 'no' to him. He nods then, and flips the last chain over his own head, "'Kay. I'll keep 'at in mind. Thanks, guy."

Ajax nods. Karl speaks up, "Nothing will keep you completely safe except your own vigilance. But those will go a way toward assuring you aren't trifled with casually."

Shateishael nods unsmilingly to Karl, "Unnerstan'. Thanks 'gain, y'all." Rosenstern's expression darkens a little as Ajax's very detailed answer says basically, 'Maybe not.' He bites his lip at Karl's answer, and nods quietly. Shateishael sighs quietly, looking back at his lovers. It scares him to expose them to the dangers he's heard of to date... but he also knows he can't do it alone, and they'd be rightfully unhappy with him if he tried to tell them not to do it.

Bella nods solemnly, "Thank you both. You have memories that some of the others don't. Thank you for being honest about them."

Karl snorts, "Couldn't let the three of you go in there without some warning. Soma could be right. He respects Bran's marks and Bran usually respects his."

Shateishael nods slowly, "An'... he could be wrong. Bellisima's right... better t'know 'heada time, yeah."

Rosenstern looks quite determined and resolute, unwilling to shrink away. "We'll do our best."

Shateishael holds up the pendant and studies it thoughtfully, adding, "Sure is pretty silverwork, though. Y'did y'rself proud, Ajax."

Karl nods, "Wouldn't expect any less." Ajax smiles broadly at the compliment, "Thanks. Wouldn't send you there with something shoddy, after all."

The day whirls by with preparations and people saying goodbye if they don't see one another again. Some of the Ethereals that bid the angels goodbye weren't actually introduced to them, but have been familiar faces on the edge of the crowds. When the sun sets the dome immediately springs to life, sending an almost electric shiver through the air, making the stars waver as if seen from deep underwater. Shateishael laughs as he looks up, rumbling to his lovers, "Gonna miss th'stars inna desert night, 'at's f'sure!"

Rosenstern looks as if he is filled with stars. A million or more tiny pinpricks of light swim just beneath his skin. From afar he seems to shimmer with a soft white light, but up close it becomes obvious that the little specks are all shades of the spectrum. His hair falls down his back in a cascade of pure white luminescence. His eyes outshine everything, however, glowing rose pink. It's difficult to tell at first, but he is clothed in a sweep of sheer scarves that hang around his waist from a silvery belt. It's as if he is made of living opal.

Shateishael looks back down at his lovers... then boggles, staring at Rosenstern, "Holy crow, Rosebud! Y'look..." his gaze travels slowly down the little Mercurian from head to feet... then just as slowly upwards again. He gives a slow whistle of admiration, then grins incredulously at Rosie, "Wow!"

Slate looks as if he has been transformed into a living statue made of precious metals. His skin is the rich glow of gold, his hair the sheen of platinum. Around his wrists and ankles are rings of bright silver, twisted and braided intricately. Other than the rings, the only thing he wears seems to be a ring-mail kilt that ends just above his knees. The belt is gold and leather, the mail itself far too light to be steel. Despite the metallic sheen of his skin, it moves and feels as supple as always. Rosenstern stretches as he feels the glamour ripple across the area, blinking as he looks at his hands. "Oh, my..." he breathes -- then he looks at Slate and blinks. "Slate! You're... you're gold, and platinum, and silver, and... and all different metals!"

Shateishael blinks at Rosenstern, then looks curiously down at himself. He's silent for a moment, running his fingers lightly over the curiously shiny-metallic skin... then he grins. "Huh! Kinda neat!"

Bella whistles softly and reaches out to touch each of the men, "Wow... just... wow."

Bella, the last of the three, also looks as if she's made of something precious. As has happened several times under the dome, her skin and hair have become green-tinged, but this time it is the milky green of jade. Her clothes seem carved of the same delicate stone: a kimono with hibiscus etched into the surface, the hem brushing the playa ground. Her hair is piled up in whorls and loops, bound 'round with strings of pearls. Shateishael looks up in time to notice Bella, and he goes still, staring in amazement. Finally he rumbles quietly and fervently, "Bella, beautiful, y'look... y'look like m'heart sings ya."

Rosenstern looks to Bella and ooohs as well, reaching forward to touch the kimono. "It's hard to tell it's not stone!"

Bella nods and touches it, saying almost reverently, "It's hard to think we almost lost the people that can bring this into being..." Shateishael reaches out slowly, his fingertips gentle as he lightly strokes Bella's cheek. He looks a bit lost in wonder.

As the three Celestials examine one another, Peony -- once again wearing the gold body paint or bodysuit that she was wearing the night of the exhibition -- comes through the camp, calling out, "Halloo the angel-camp!"

Shateishael doesn't look away from Bella as he rumbles in return, "We're here, Peony!" Rosenstern looks to Peony, beaming happily and glad to see her, though he continually casts admiring glances at both Bella and Slate.

The little leprechaun just about scampers up, grinning, "Oh... nice." She examines the glowing Mercurian and the gold-sheened Seraph, "I just want to put you guys in a treasure chest and take you home."

Shateishael murmurs softly to Bella, his heart in his eyes,

"Akikaze ya
ikite aimiru
nare to ware.
[autumn wind-
met, returning alive
you and me.]"

Then he slowly turns and smiles at the little leprechaun, "Hey, Miz Peony. Y'lookin' fiery bright t'night." Bella smiles at Slate, eyes shining damply for a moment before his attention turns to Peony. Then the Bright slips around to snuggle up behind Rosie, wrapping her arms around him, fingers resting on the belt that holds up the scarves.

Peony grins and tips her head to the side, braid swinging, "Well, it's the burn. You're going to see a lot of jewels and fire-themed things tonight. It's all about change and transformation, after all."

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "Jewels 'n fire, innerestin'." He grins, "Allus liked 'at kinda thin' m'self -- but then I would, bein' a smith. We allus used fire t'change base metals t'sumpin' practical 'n beautiful."

Peony laughs, eyes roaming over Slate almost acquisitively, "I'll just bet." She clears her throat, "I was sent to make sure you guys were on your way. Soma's up to his ears in nervous brides-and-grooms-to-be and with the three little guys and gals that decided to go through their change tonight."

Rosenstern grins merrily about a bunch of handfasters, and squirms -- but not to get away from Bella, instead nestling into the embrace. "Sounds like a kind of alchemy, Slate," he says, teasingly.

Shateishael says, "Tis, Rosie. 'S whut we do, really." He smiles at the little Mercurian in the Bright's arms, "Not s'much diff'rent from whut'chall do, though -- dirt 'n seeds t'flow'rs 'n plants?" He turns back to Peony, utterly missing the very interested look, and rumbles curiously, "We needed f'some a' th' ceremonies, 'r they jus' wanna get started?"

Peony smiles, "Ayra, Afton and Adair are going to be the first handfasting."

Shateishael grins, "Aw, that's nice!" He holds out a hand to each lover, "C'mon, y'all -- we don' wanna miss that!"

Rosenstern bobs his head, "We don't want to miss that, no!" He takes Slate's hand and offers his other hand to Bella.

Peony grins and nods, "I'll see you there." She turns and literally skips away. Shateishael grins as Rosie slides between the other two, and gracefully turns his hand offered to Bella towards Peon- whoops! No, he doesn't. He chuckles quietly, shrugging slightly and walking with his lovers towards the pavilion.

Bella grins and takes Rosie's hand, putting him between herself and Slate, bracketing him in his lovers so to speak, "This should be nice."

Rosenstern bobs his head. "It'll be wonderful to see, I'm certain!"

The little sun-mosaic table is back in the clearing in front of the pavilion. On it is the golden bowl containing the sunrise offerings along with a small dagger and a length of rope that shimmers with threads of silver and gold. The Ethereals have gathered again in loosely circled ranks, though there are still gaps here and there that would let the angels make their way to the inner circle. Shateishael glances around at the back of the group, not wanting to shove in when they're still the newcomers. He rumbles quietly to Bella and Rosie, "Y'all wanna sit on m'shoulders 'gain?"

Rosenstern brightens, "Could we? It won't be too tiring for you?

As the Celestials discuss that, Bacchus catches sight of them and trots over, grinning broadly. He's dressed again in his kilt with his javelin sheath across his back. His torso has been painted with dancing flames, horns traced in lines of gold, "You're here! Come with me... Ayra wanted you up front for this..."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, glancing down at the little Mercurian, "'Course not, sweetheart." He reaches for Rosie... then pauses as Bacchus comes trotting up. At the satyr's words he nods silently, internally amused. Seems to be his night for missing cues more than usual! He'll pace silently after Rosie and Bella, following Bacchus. Rosenstern doesn't let Slate walk behind, instead taking his arm and walking beside him.

Bacchus leads the angels through the ranks of the fae, exchanging greetings and beaming with pride at congratulations on the grandchild-to-come. He situates the three of them in the first circle, still grinning. "Must go. Zareh is crossing over for this tonight." He dashes off toward the pavilion, leaving the three Celestials amid brightly painted and preciously adorned fae of every description.

Shateishael looks a bit surprised, then grins, "Wow, th'Willow Lady's gonna be here too! That's certainly gotta be auspicious!" He looks interestedly around him, nodding and smiling to the Ethereals he recognizes. He can see Rose and Lily near to hand -- he smiles and salaams respectfully to them. The dragon ladies receive a similar greeting once he spots them about a quarter turn of the circle away, with Puck kneeling between them. The Jotunsens and Shale, across the circle, he grins and waves to before the ceremonies begin.

Bella smiles and laughs, "Her daughter is getting handfasted. It's a special occasion."

Rosenstern smiles, "For her daughter's handfasting, that'd most definitely be auspicious."

As the light fades further out of the sky, Soma emerges from the pavilion. He is wearing the golden circlet he had this morning, and a sash through which he wears the ceremonial sword he carried during the exhibition. He also wears a slim-fitting cat suit of shimmering sapphire blue that looks as if it could just be painted skin -- or perhaps simply just painted on. Behind him are Bacchus and Zareh. The Willow Lady's hair tangles down her back in flowing fronds and she wears a simple and elegant white dress that bares her arms with their bark-like skin. Both of them look as if they are about to burst with pride. Rosenstern gives a soft purr as he sees Soma, snuggling closer to Slate where he stands. Shateishael puts an arm around Rosie when he does so, smiling down with gentle amusement at the little Mercurian.

The handfasting of Ayra and the two leprechauns is a simple but emotional affair. The three of them stand before Soma with Ayra's parents on one side and Peony and Angus on the other, and solemnly promise to care for one another for a year and a day. The words spoken are in several languages, and by the time Soma pricks each palm and literally binds them with the golden rope, there are tears streaming down several faces. Even Bacchus is weeping joyfully to see his daughter glowing with happiness. From time to time the satyr and his lady can been seen to glance at one another with looks of love and remembrance. Soma reaches behind himself, gathers a pinch of the morning offerings, and scatters it over the bound hands, murmuring a benediction and a gentle binding. There is the soft whisper of almost-Song, and Ayra is kissed by both her bridegrooms.

Rosenstern's own cheeks aren't dry as he watches, feeling very happy indeed for Ayra. Shateishael smiles, watching and trying not to get choked up himself as well. He surreptitiously rubs his eyes, wondering if someday he'll be able to do that too with his beloveds. He glances at Rosie and Bella, sitting next to him... then silently and firmly reminds himself to patience. Patience and love will see him the course -- if it's there for him in the first place. Bella is quite sniffly herself at the end of the handfasting, and reaches across Rosie to pull one of Slate's hands over, somewhat mirroring the three joined hands in the center of the circle. Shateishael smiles with quiet warmth at Bella, happy to hold her hand.

The handfastings that follow are similar, but few seem to hold quite the same intensity of the first, perhaps because only Ayra and the leprechauns are parents-to-be. Most are simple couples, though the couples are of every gender-mix, and only one or two others are of larger groups. The words spoken are never quite the same and the benediction by Soma is never quite identical, giving each union its own bit of uniqueness. Rosenstern thinks it's a lovely touch to make each unique. Part of him is already trying to compose a handfasting ceremony for the three of them -- though he would really rather Dominic didn't officiate.

After the handfastings there is something almost like an intermission in which the newly-interbound Ethereals mingle with the rest of the crowd, gravitating to their own places in the circle. Ayra, Bacchus, Zareh, the leprechauns, and the lone clurichaun end up with Slate, Rosie, and Bella. Bella wraps Ayra up in a big hug and tells her beamingly how beautiful she is.

Shateishael watches and listens and is quietly happy to participate in the shared, strengthening rituals of the little community. It gives him an inordinate amount of joy to see the Ethereals cementing their bonds to each other like this. He grins at the male leprechauns, rumbling, "C'ngratulations! Y'all look real happy t'gether." He's not yet registered he looks like living gold to them. Soma moves around, smiling and congratulating those he just handfasted, ending up near the angels. All the leprechauns are having a really, really hard time keeping their eyes off the gleaming Seraph. Peony ends up on the far side of Slate and is very carefully accidentally-on-purpose brushing up against him from time to time.

Rosenstern gives all three in turn warm hugs and his congratulations. Shateishael cheerfully congratulates the happy grandparents-to-be as well, bowing politely to Zareh. However, at some point he looks around a bit bemusedly, then rumbles to the leprechauns, "Y'all starin' lot, 'r 'm I 'maginin' it? Did I doin' sumpin' wrong?" He absently and reflexively puts an arm around Peony when she brushes against him much like Rosie and Bella occasionally do.

Peony murmurs with quiet amusement, "Slate, you look like you're made out of gold. You're lucky the lot of us aren't rubbing against you like cats." Rosenstern grins merrily to Slate, laughing at the idea of the leprechauns rubbing themselves against him! He suspects Peony might not mind that.

Shateishael looks down at Peony -- then blinks as her words register. He studies one hand a bit bemusedly, then rumbles a faintly surprised, "...oh, yeah... sorry 'bout that, y'all." Then he glances back at Peony, still obviously working through this revelation, "Um... touchin's bad f'y'all?"

Peony snorts, "No. But it might be distracting during the ceremonies."

Shateishael says, "Ah, okay." He nods, clearly understanding that part... then takes a surreptitious moment to study his hand again in fascinated bemusement. "Huh... does kinda look like gold, don' it..."

Soma takes the momentarily lull to kneel in front of Rose and lean in for a soft kiss, murmuring, "You look beyond beautiful, my sweet."

Rosenstern blinks to Soma and smiles softly, nuzzling the fae's cheek and taking his hand. "And you are beautiful and regal, my Lord," he whispers, smiling.

Soma strokes Rosie's cheek, eyes slightly heavy-lidded. He's been the channel of a lot of energy tonight and it seems to have almost intoxicated him, "You flatter me, sweetling. We will dance together later, if your lover permits." He stands and moves back toward the center of the circle, taking a long moment to compose himself, eyes closed. As he waits, the circle parts and three of the proto-sidhe flutter through on their dragonfly wings. They look identical, but one is having a hard time keeping a steady course, clearly full of excitement and eagerness. The excited one catches sight of the shining Rosenstern and waves exuberantly.

Rosenstern blinks and beams to Iris, waving back. "He's the one I ran into earlier," he murmurs to Slate.

Shateishael chuckles quietly, murmuring back, "Hard t'miss, yeah." He's settled back down next to Rosie and Bella, and gives Peony a raised eyebrow and a gesture to ask her if she'd like to sit with them?

Soma turns and faces the proto-sidhe -- and as he does there is a triumphant shout clearly heard from the main City, and the leaping flames of the Man light up the night, almost dimming the stars behind it. With the leaping flames comes a rush of energy and a surge of light through the dome of glamour. Several of the Ethereals gasp, some tipping their heads back ecstatically. Peony settles in on the other side of Slate from Rosie, actually kneeling instead of sitting. She sways a little with the rush of energy afforded by the surge. Even the angels feel something wash over them, filling them with the humming, buzzing energy of fresh Essence.

Shateishael looks up and smiles, his eyes shining like sapphires in the growing light. Then his head rocks back in startlement -- he draws in his breath sharply, then glances at his lovers, whispering, "Didj'all feel that?! Y'all get topped off on essence too jus' then?" Bella nods mutely, swallowing hard. Shateishael draws in a deep chest-full of air, straightening where he's sitting from the sheer intoxication of that amazing rush. He laughs aloud in joy at the incredible ecstatic pleasure, reaching out to stroke his large, strong hands gently along the backs of Rosie and Peony -- something that feels this good should be shared!

Rosenstern takes in a sharp breath, almost going cross-eyed for a moment as he feels the utter surge of energy and enthusiasm from the mortals outside as the Burn starts. Something like this... any angel who thrived on such emotion and energy, any angel who had rituals for it, would be brimming with Essence. Then a thought strikes him. This would be the sort of thing David would crave for humans. With a surge of Essence like that, it's simply incredible! Why haven't there been more Stone angels here? Why haven't there been more angels here, period?

Soma seems in some way to be riding that wave of Essence, face intensely set and eyes glowing like blue stars as he reaches out, murmuring something to each of the proto-sidhe as he brushes his fingertips over their foreheads. What happens then is much like watching a butterfly climb from a cocoon. From the point of their third eyes, the skins of the little green Ethereals start to split, opening up and peeling away. It seems almost to tear in places, but rather than falling away, it is reabsorbed into the emerging forms. Iris, who wound up quite literally front and center, emerges with brilliant purple and blue streaked wings that look somehow damp, and skin that is the lavender sheen of the creeping phlox the angels saw in the Garden. His hair and eyes mirror that shade.

The other two are undergoing their own Becomings, backs arched in what looks almost like an erotic ecstasy. When it is finished, one has almost gaudily orange wings and an elegant black body. The other has wings that shade from white at his back to electric blue at the edges. His body is a mottle of the two colors and he seems to have no hair. All three are quite obviously male in their new bodies.

Shateishael watches in fascination, his eyes wide and shining in the firelight, his arms tucked warmly around the two people flanking him. Rosenstern can't help but stare; the idea of someone coming out of a cocoon that's their own skin would make for horror movie fare, but here it's indescribably beautiful. It's simply awe-inspiring to watch. "Is this how Relievers fledge?" he murmurs to nobody in particular. "Can it even be remotely as beautiful as this?"

Shateishael smiles slowly as it registers: the new community is now three adults stronger! He has to carefully keep his mouth shut, as his Seraphic nature is nudging him intensely to sing a joyous welcome and thanksgiving to the new ones. He glances at Rosenstern and smiles, murmuring quietly, "Oh, yeah. Ecstatic joy is always beautiful, lover." He wonders fascinatedly if the orange and black Ethereal will be a new monarch... he doesn't recognize the pattern of the third one, although he's seen beautiful iridescent purple and blue winged butterflies before.

As the three new sidhe flare their wings and sing out their own elation, Soma smiles around the circle, voice vibrant and joyous, "My friends, my family! We have celebrated joinings and transformations; let us now move inside to welcome those that mean to cross over to us, and bid farewell to those that are to leave us for another year." With his invitation the circle begins to dissolve, the Jotunsens moving to the center to gather up the table and the vessel of offerings.

Rosenstern stands with the other angels, still holding on to Slate's arm and feeling quite gleeful and happy from the ceremony. "Shall we go inside?" he asks.

Bella slides her arm around Rosie's waist, humming to herself. The ceremonies were gorgeous and the sudden, head-spinning rush of Essence was amazing. "Definitely."

Shateishael is a bit slow to react to the invitation -- he's also getting that lazily smoky-eyed look from the sheer pleasure of that ecstatic rush of Essence after being completely empty. He's absorbedly stroking Peony's hair, his other arm tucked warmly about Rosenstern. He looks up after a moment, "Uh? Sure! Uhm... whut?"

Peony laughs and gently disengages from Slate, "I need to go say goodbye to Angus. He's decided he might be best served staying in the Marches."

Shateishael nods to Peony, watching her go as he tries to remember who Angus is... the clurichaun, he thinks. He looks back at Rosie and Bella and smiles slowly, his eyes still smokily intense, "Heya, beautiful ones. Whut wuz it y'wan'ed t'do?" Bella is too busy giggling at Slate's dazed reaction to actually answer him. Shateishael absently steps behind Rosenstern, carefully sliding his arms around the slight Mercurian so he doesn't get in Bella's way. He nuzzles Rosie's head, smiling relaxedly at Bella, "Whu' s'funny, beautiful?" Rosenstern is purring softly, giving a little shiver now and then. He laughs softly at Slate's distracted reactions and Bella's noticing of them. Shateishael smiles lazily again, pressing pleasurably against Rosenstern as the little Mercurian seems to be enjoying himself.

Bella takes Rosie's hand, leading the Mercurian toward the pavilion, knowing that Slate will follow along if his pretty little sub starts to move. Shateishael does indeed follow along, his golden-footed steps crunching slightly on the playa dirt. He studies the graceful sway of Bella's jade kimono, then rumbles contentedly, "In China jade's th'symbol a' immortality, due t'bein' an invulnerable 'n pure type a' stone. Suits ya, beautiful."

Bella laughs and turns her head to wink at Slate. Inside the pavilion, people are settling in on the cushions, some hugging loved ones goodbye. There are some tears and quite a lot of laughter. Shateishael grins at the wink, then adds thoughtfully, "We sh'd getch'all some real kimonos... think they'd look lovely on y'both." He's still gently running his hand along Rosie's back as they walk, as if he can't get quite enough lovely sensory input. Rosenstern grins sheepishly to Bella as he leads Slate in... sort of like drawing bait along for a predator to follow it!

Zareh makes her way through the crowd to the angels. She laughs kindly, "It seems the Warrior is besotted."

Shateishael grins lazily at Zareh, reaching out to take her hand and bow gracefully over it. He straightens and rumbles, "Ma'am, y'lookin' beautiful 'gain. Wish't I had some flow'rs t'offer ya."

Zareh laughs and pats Slate hand, "I have all the flowers I will ever need in my Garden, Warrior." She smiles at Rosie, reaching to squeeze one of his hands, "You should come see me again, Flowerkin. I have some experiments that should be mature by this time next year." Shateishael's bright blue eyes are almost glowing with intensity, and he releases the Willow Lady's hand a touch reluctantly. He's not yet registered the effects of so much essence at once, once he's completely out of it -- he's simply very much enjoying himself and wondering if more folks would like hugs. Touch is amazingly nice just now, for some reason!

Rosenstern beams to Zareh, smiling and taking her hand in both of his. "We would love to, Lady. I'd very much enjoy seeing what flowers will be in bloom!"

Slowly, people start to settle in and quiet down. Zareh looks around and then smiles at the angels, "Find someplace comfortable. Bacchus should be around somewhere."

Shateishael shifts over to behind Bella and slides his arms around her as he watches Zareh and Rosenstern, thinking, [Oh, yeah... feels fantastic!] Rosenstern smiles and nods, then looks around and tries to find the nearest comfortable place for all three of them to sit without imposing on others. If there is someone they know he'll gravitate the group towards them As the angels look for a place to sit, they find there's a space around Bacchus, along with his daughter and newly-acquired sons-in-law. Bella settles Slate in between herself and Rosie, leaning around the Seraph's back to murmur at the Mercurian, "We need to keep an eye on him..."

Rosenstern nods quietly, grinning to Bella. "I guess the Essence surge hit him fairly strongly. Mmph, I can't say it left me untouched, either!"

Shateishael is gently running his hands along Bella's and Rosie's thighs where they sit flanking him. Amiably he rumbles, "Who, Bellisima? Mmm... y'all feel real nice t'night!" He leans to whisper to Bella, but gets distracted by the scent of her hair. He nuzzles her contentedly, forgetting what he was about to ask.

Bella smiles lazily, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling it, too, but I think he took more of a hit than we did."

As the angels are settling in, so is everyone else and slowly it is noticed that silence reigns in the pavilion. One by one the torches are doused until the only light is a single three-wicked candle on a table before the Tether. Soma stands between the Tether pole and the table with the candle, somewhat eerily lit, the dim light casting shadows on his fine-boned face. His head is bowed and he holds his hands over the flames as if to warm them. Once silence is complete, he speaks, "Once we went freely on our ways between this world and the other. Once we passed through the veil with barely a whisper, and walked the earth or the soil of Faerie with impunity. Now we have this short time to pass between our home and our adopted world. Tonight we bid hello to some that will join us on this fleshly plane for the next year, and farewell to those that will pass beyond for the interim."

Shateishael goes silent, continuing to slowly and gently stroke the thighs of his lovers as he watches interestedly. Bella snuggles against Slate's side, face getting solemn as she thinks about having to choose one place or another and how confining that feels. Shateishael tucks an arm close about Bella, smiling down warmly at her for a second before his attention is captured by Soma again. Rosenstern listens raptly and attentively, with great interest -- interesting that Soma called it 'adoptive world.'

Bacchus leans over and very softly explains, "It's a ritual crossing... some that you've seen already went back before this all started and they'll make the official crossing now... same for those going into the Marches." As he says the last, a flash of sadness fills his eyes and he squeezes Zareh's hand. Shateishael studies Bacchus for a moment... then impulsively reaches out and gently strokes one hand down Bacchus's arm in silent commiseration. He knows how much his heart would ache if Rosie and Bella left him for an entire year. Or rather... he can barely imagine it -- mostly because he doesn't really want to. It would be incredibly painful.

As Soma speaks, he closes his eyes and reaches into the vessel that holds the remains of the sunrise offerings. There's the softly audible rush as the Essence or energy or whatever it is the Ethereals contributed is released and the Tether begins to glow, a whispering of music accompanying its activation. Soon the Summer Lord is backlit by it, his hair forming a shimmering blue halo around his silhouetted form. Rosenstern stares, watching the opening of the tether, snuggling a little closer to Bella and Slate, who snuggles both lovers close, whispering softly in a foreign tongue to them as he nuzzles lightly against their hair. As the Tether opens, forms move through it. Some are indeed familiar. Stieg is among them, as is Shale. Some are unfamiliar as anything more than faces seen once or twice in the past weeks. As each Ethereal appears, someone from the pavilion rises and goes to them, taking their hand and leading them among the assembled beings, whispering the same ritual phrase. "Our arms welcome you. Our hearts rejoice." Rosenstern watches, almost mesmerized by the entire ritual.

When the last of the arriving Ethereals has passed the portal of the Tether, Soma raises his head and asks in a voice tinged with sorrow, "Who leaves us? Who will pass beyond for another year?" At the question, Ethereals rise from their seats and begin to move toward the Summer Lord and the glowing pole. Zareh turns to Bacchus and whispers something to him, adoration and sadness showing on her face. She pulls back and smiles, saying loudly enough for the angels to hear, "It will not always be thus, beloved." The Willow Lady stands and steps regally toward Soma.

Soma takes Zareh's hands and whispers, "Watch over the children of imagination in our home, Lady of the Willow. Nurture them for this year, and we will bring wonders back for them to see." Zareh answers in measured tones, "Watch over the children of imagination on the plane of flesh, King of Summer, and we will welcome you when again the door opens." They bow to one another and Zareh, looking as royal as any queen, steps into the light and disappears. Each Ethereal that moves toward the portal stops and exchanges farewells with Soma. Some sound prepared, some heartfelt. There are tears on many faces as their comrades pass beyond. Bacchus sits, looking stoically into the Tether, but his cheeks are slick with weeping. He seemed not to have noticed Slate's touch, all his attention for the Willow Lady.

Shateishael's face is clearly showing his emotions when he's this inebriated on essence -- his expression is dejected as he watches Zareh leave. A moment later he looks determined -- he has got to figure out how to make angels and Ethereals friends again! He sighs and hugs both lovers gently close again, whispering softly, just to his lovers, "Y'all thinkin' we need t'figger out how t'get th' other C'lestials t'like 'thereals 'gain, too?" Rosenstern's throat is a bit tight, and he feels somewhat choked up from watching even just Zareh depart. He doesn't trust his voice, and so only nods to Slate. Shateishael nods silently, brushing his lips against Rosie's temple for a moment, then looking up and watching again.

There are many more Ethereals going back to the Marches than ones that made the crossing to the Corporeal; the crowd in the pavilion is noticeably thinned by the time the last one passes through. Soma looks as if he is sagging slightly as the last Ethereals -- Jenny and the little ones -- make the journey. The sidhe lord's normally musical voice rings with regret, "Once again we bid farewell and good journey to those that pass beyond. But with that farewell we send hope. For this year we send emissaries to my brother-self that may set us on the road to opening this door twice in the world's turning." With the words the glow of the Tether starts to slacken, but it seems to be replaced by the rising of a sun and the joyous singing of birds.

Shateishael blinks a bit startledly, looking around. Dawn already? Rosenstern shivers a little at Soma's words; they have to find some way to convince Bran to do this. Then he blinks again. Has the night passed so quickly? The pavilion again seems to disappear, to be replaced by a dale of flowers, the scent of honeysuckle floating through the air as Soma continues to speak, "We have seen already that healing is possible. We shall see the day this rift is forever closed and we are free to cross the veil between our two homes." Shateishael runs a gentle hand absently down Rosie's arm and side at the shiver, unconsciously trying to warm the slight Mercurian up again. He watches with fascinated delight, uncritically accepting the glamour in his current state.

Soma's voice is almost a song by the time he finishes speaking. As the glamour fades, it is replaced again by bright torchlight and people seem to remember to breathe. The Summer Lord smiles at his people and the angels, saying, "And now let us not mourn the past, but celebrate the joy and beauty the present offers us." He leans over and blows out the ritual candle. There is a moment more of silence, then people begin moving for the doorway of the pavilion.

Bacchus has to take several deep breaths before he can say, "We'll be taking the pavilion down tonight. By dawn, it'll be packed away. There'll be a party outside." The look on his face says the satyr isn't in a party mood.

Shateishael looks around a bit bemusedly at the change of scene, then down at his lovers, rumbling quietly, "Y'all 'kay, sweethearts?" He looks up at Bacchus and nods, "Thanks. Anythin' we c'n do f'ya, guy?"

Rosenstern shivers again; there's something depressing about the end of the Burn, especially with people who depart for so long from one another. He nods at Slate's words and, at Slate's query of Bacchus, he adds, "Anything at all."

Bacchus looks solemnly at the angels and says, "Help us fix this."

Shateishael nods, rumbling gravely, "Gonna do m'best. Promise." He runs his hand along Bacchus's back again in silent commiseration, not knowing how else to express his sadness for his friend's grief. Rosenstern nods quietly and soberly at Bacchus's request.

Soma has stepped close, looking quite drained. He nods at Bacchus' statement and the answers, adding, "We can ask no more than that, Friends."

Bella asks quietly, "Can I help take down the pavilion?" It doesn't sound so much like offering help as asking permission.

Bacchus smiles tiredly and pats Slate's knee, "I'll live, lad." The satyr pushes himself to his feet and offers a hand to Bella, "We'd be honored to have the help, Bella-child."

Shateishael glances a bit worriedly at Soma, "Y'okay, Soma? Y'r lookin' bit... peaked?"

Soma smiles tiredly, "I overextended myself a little, I believe, Slate. I may retire once I have finished my part here." Bacchus snorts and prods Soma softly, "You've done your part. Go rest."

Shateishael nods in silent agreement with Bacchus, then glances at Rosie. He leans to whisper, "Y'wanna shloosle him off t'bed 'n come back inna few hours 'r sumpin'?"

Rosenstern nods quietly, "You did do a great deal tonight, Lord Soma. You should rest."

Soma looks from Bacchus to Rosenstern, considering for a moment. Slowly he says, "Perhaps you are right. I believe I shall take myself to my quarters."

Shateishael smiles, stroking his hand once down Rosie's hair so the little Mercurian can step forward easily. Rosenstern doesn't need much more encouragement, instead stepping forward smoothly and wrapping his arms around Soma's waist and chest tightly, nestling his head against Soma's chest. Shateishael sighs a bit wistfully, watching and hugging Bella warmly while he ponders ways to make things better for the Ethereals. When intoxicated and not under threat, he mostly reflects the moods around him... and this slightly sad mood is making him want to cuddle close those he most cares about. Soma wraps himself around Rosie, some sort of tension leaking out of the Summer King as the little angel presses close. Resting his cheek against the top of Rosie's head, he says, "Thank you. Thank you all."

Soma lets himself be led off to rest, but not before he invites Slate and Bella to join himself and Rosenstern once they've finished their part with the pavilion. The taking down of the pavilion is done in measured and almost ritualistic steps. The carved pole of the Tether is wrapped in the canvas of the walls and tied tightly before being stowed in a converted horse trailer. The pillows and other furnishings are returned to their owners. It's well into the night when the other angels can join the Mercurian and the sidhe. The mood is solemn but hopeful. Once things are put away, Bacchus stretches and smiles a bit tiredly at the angels and the others helping, "I think you might want to go join the Flowerkin and Soma..."

Shateishael nods silently to Bacchus, holding out a hand to Bella. The earlier giddy intoxication has mostly worn off now, and while he feels incredibly energized still, he's been trying to match his demeanor and speed with that of those around him. He's noticed the sober, almost solemn mood of most of the few remaining Ethereals, and suspects any partying will be rather sedate this evening... except for the newly fledged proto-sidhe, he'd guess. He wonders if any new Ethereals came through, that they've not yet met. Perhaps they'll get to meet tomorrow.

The party isn't as wild as the others the Ethereals have thrown at the Burn, but there is warm laughter and food and people staying close to one another. The new sidhe are literally glowing with their joy in their new forms. There's music, but it's from a rather out-of-place portable boom box, and there doesn't seem to be as much dancing as normal. Ajax and Peony are two of the ones that are actually dancing, laughing together like the old friends they are. Soma's yurt is glowing from within, the warm yellow light of candles illuminating the canvas sides. Shateishael watches a bit wistfully, wishing they could join in for a bit... then he glances at Bella and smiles. Just because he's feeling full of energy doesn't mean everyone else is. He's happy to stick with his lovers if they need cuddling tonight. Bella takes Slate's hand and smiles up at him, "Maybe we can lure Rosie and Soma out if Soma's feeling better."

Shateishael blinks at Bella, then grins a bit ruefully, "'M I that transparent? Sorry, lover. 'S okay, though -- if'n y'all wanna jus' cuddle, tha's fine wi'me too. Some nights tha's whut folks really need."

Inside the yurt Soma has been stretched out on his bed on his side, having had to position himself somewhat carefully to keep his wings out of the way. Rosie has been spooned against his chest and the Summer Lord has been petting him tender, stroking his hair and stomach. He sings softly to Rosie in the liquid syllables of Welsh. Rosenstern is nestled comfortably against Soma, simply purring softly, gently nuzzling. It looks like they've been comfortably ensconed like this withut much moving for some time.

Shateishael enters behind Bella, after tapping lightly at the doorframe, and smiles with quiet affection over Bella's head at the scene within. Natural firelight, he thinks, always makes beloveds look more beautiful. He finds himself somewhat loath to interrupt, in fact; he watches silently. Rosenstern lifts up his head a little bit, still purring quietly, and smiles warmly to Slate and Bella. Shateishael's expression softens slightly as he returns Rosie's blissful smile. Absently he runs a gently stroking hand down Bella's side as she smiles at the pair, leaning back against Slate as she too drinks in the little tableau. Soma's hair has fallen over his face and he's looking much less drawn and tired than he did at the end of the ceremonies. The entry of the two angels makes him raise his head and smile, one hand spread over Rosie's stomach. He's almost whispering and his voice holds an accent stronger than ever, "Ahh, friends... the work of the night is finished?"

Shateishael nods quietly, "Yep, pavilion's all wrapped up, Soma. Folks' hangin' t'gether, 'n seem good s'far. How're y'feelin'?"

Soma smiles quietly, kissing the top of Rosie's head, "Better. I seem to forget every year how the grief hits."

Shateishael's face goes expressionlessly still at that -- he still can't imagine (nor does he really want to) what it would be like to be deprived of those he loves for an entire year. Rosenstern smiles, a little sadly and softly, reaching back to touch Soma's cheek. "We'll do everything we can to help fix things," he says gently.

Soma nods and turns his head to kiss Rosie's fingertips, "I know. I have faith in you. In all of you." Carefully he shifts, starting to sit up, "I should likely go and be among them."

Shateishael steps around Bella to offer a hand to the tired Ethereal, "Need a han'?" He adds a bit puzzledly, "How d'ya re-energize, Soma? It ain't essence f'ya, is it?"

Soma smiles and squeezes Rosie's hand, "It's not quite the same, no. Being with the Flowerkin helps." Rosenstern smiles, squeezing Soma's hand back and moving to sit up, kneeling as Slate helps the fae-lord up.

Shateishael nods slowly. He's still not sure what the Summer Lord eats, but he'll continue to help as best he can. [Nothing like using strength for good purpose, after all], he thinks. "Y'wan' anythin' from in here b'fore y'go out? Cloak, chair 'r pillows t'sit on, sumpin' else?"

Soma stands and stretches, "No. I'm feeling stronger. Tomorrow morning my people will disperse to their mundane homes. Myself and my lieutenants will stay until the last one has left, and then we shall go home ourselves. Tonight is for saying goodbye and celebrating. A quiet celebration, true."

Shateishael nods again, "'Kay." He grins at his lovers, adding, "We should c'ngratulate th'new fae too, yeah? Bet Iris wantsta see th' li'l Rosebud 'gain." He'll hold the door open for them all, pacing silently out after the last of them and musing on how dramatically their lives have been opened up and blessed... by one almost chance meeting at an obscure yearly festival. Soma starts to let the angels proceed out the door ahead of him, and Shateishael smiles and waves Soma on, from where he's standing and holding the door, "G'wan. Y'r people're waitin'." Soma laughs quietly and pats Slate on the shoulder, stepping on through the door and reaching for Rosie's hand.

Rosenstern takes Soma's hand, but not before hugging Slate about the waist tightly. Shateishael grins and gently strokes Rosie's hair, murmuring a quietly affectionate Norse blessing at the little angel's hug. Once everyone's out he too steps outside, letting the door flap fall closed... then stands there for a moment, looking out at the Ethereals beyond. A slow smile crosses his face again at sight of the small but close-knit community. It makes him feel wonderful inside to be associated again with a community that actually needs him.

When the little cadre emerges from the yurt, Iris in his new form literally flies over. He's not far off the ground, but he is definitely using his wings, "Flowerkin! Lord Soma!"

Rosenstern beams happily. "Iris! Congratulations!" Shateishael grins quietly, stepping up next to Bella and sliding an arm about her waist as he watches the new little Ethereal bubble happily. He sighs quietly, gently nuzzling the top of Bella's head, then looks beyond at the other Ethereals... the theme of transition makes for interesting accoutrements, he decides. Bella's lovely, graceful jade patterning makes him want to run his hands all over her just to appreciate the artistry. He wonders if that's what his gold form makes the leprechauns feel like... he grins at that, then glances at Rosenstern again -- that form came out gorgeous! The stars shimmering within the slight Mercurian, and the silvery glow of his hair are simply breathtaking. He lets his thoughts drift a bit as he admires the beauty of his beloveds.

The newly made sidhe hugs Rosenstern quite familiarly, kissing his cheek noisily, "Thank you! It's... amazing." He spins and hugs Soma just as tightly, his eyes wide with amazement, "It's... I had no idea."

Rosenstern eeps! a little at the sudden hug, laughing and hugging Iris back. "What are you amazed about?" he asks curiously.

Iris touches his fingertips to his temples and smiles. "It's like my mind... it's like something unlocked it. And suddenly there's so much more there...."

Soma nods, smiling quietly, "That's exactly what it's like."

The new sidhe touches a fingertip to Rosie's forehead, right in the center, "Suddenly it's like I can see more. Hear more. Feel more."

Shateishael looks puzzledly between the little Ethereal and Soma, "How's he mean, Soma?"

Soma smiles quietly, "They can't see the world fully until they become. They're much like humans with different anatomy."

Shateishael frowns thoughtfully for a moment, then rumbles, "D'fine see th'world fully, please?" Rosenstern listens curiously, still a little confused.

Soma draws his brows together, thinking, "It's... to us, the world is something of..." He makes a motion with his hands as he tries to explain it. As he's looking confused, or like he's working hard at speaking, Bacchus arrives, chuckling. "It's like the world consists of layers, one overlaying another. They're all a little different. This that we see, it's an overlay."

Shateishael nods, listening carefully, "Like we c'n see C'lestial, 'n hear th'Symphony?"

Bacchus mms and nods, "Similar. But I think we don't have access to some of the layers. It's like being partially color-blind. I don't know if we see something you don't, though."

Shateishael rumbles thoughtfully, "Dunno if anyone's got access t'alla them, really. T'me, th'Symphony's a constant... umm... joyous Song 'roun' 'bout ev'ryone 'n ev'rythin'. C'lestial's li'l harder t'see -- gotta focus on it, but it shows sumpin' sorta like True Forms -- like I'm sorta like a winged serpent in that realm. Whut's your layer like?"

Soma says, "It's like... we can almost see home from there. Like through frosted glass. An overlay. I see Bacchus clear as day now, but were he to wear his human seeming I would see his true form over it like..." he looks embarrassed, "that... clear wrap..."

Shateishael listens to Soma, puzzled as to why the Ethereal seems embarrassed. He glances at Bacchus, wondering whether the satyr's wearing an odd seeming currently or something. Bacchus snerks, "Cellophane." The satyr is wearing his true form, or the one he's said is the true form.

Soma sighs, "Yes, cellophane. I despise not remembering words."

Shateishael ahs -- that's why Soma was embarrassed. He rumbles curiously, "Whut's home look like? That y'all's place inna Marches?" He considers a moment, then adds, "Yeah, I could unnerstan' that... seein' C'lestial's like seein' li'l bitta Heaven in ourselves." Rosenstern is looking curiously between Iris, Bacchus, and Soma. It's fascinating, actually; the idea of multiple layers of reality in a single plane -- it sounds different from the way Celestials perceive the Symphony and can 'go to' the Celestial plane.

Bacchus smiles, "For us, going home isn't about going somewhere else. It's about parting the veil of seeming and passing to the other layer. It's not separate. It's here. Perceptions are different."

Shateishael nods slowly, considering that. "We mus' perceive diff'rently than y'all, then... cuz goin' t'heaven 'r th' Marches feels like goin' some'eres else." He pauses, then amends thoughtfully, "T'me, at least." He glances out at the other Ethereals, then smiles and adds, "Le's go meet folks, yeah? Bet they'll wanna talk t'Soma 'n all."

Peony detaches herself from Ajax and sort of floats over toward the angels and the Summer Lord. Her eyes are fixed quite firmly on Slate and his metallic-seeming body, "I guess I get to say goodbye properly after all."

Shateishael turns his slightly startled gaze down to Peony from regarding the entire gathering. He's not quite sure what she means, "Pardon, ma'am? I do sumpin' improper?"

Peony rolls her eyes and glances at Bella and Rosie, "The two of you mind if I drag Slate off for a last dance?" The Bright grins and shakes her head, "No, please. Go take him to dance. He might even enjoy it."

Shateishael brightens a bit, his eyes glowing, "Oh, a dance? Sure, love ta!" He offers Peony a hand, adding cheerfully, "Y'r lookin' lovely t'night, Miz Peony. Really like th'flame effect on ya." Peony chuckles and slides her hand through Slate's elbow, her gaze blatantly avaricious as she walks with the gleaming Seraph. The music playing now is dreamy and instrumental, sounding like water almost in the flow of notes. It might be a harp, or possibly a dulcimer and it sounds vaguely Celtic. Shateishael listens thoughtfully to the music, then smiles, "Allus liked hammered dulcimer. Like liquid metal singing." He looks down at Peony, catching the avaricious look, and looks a bit startled again, "Um... sumpin'?"

Peony keeps one hand through Slate's elbow and strokes the fingertips of the other over the golden lines of his muscular forearm, eyes looking almost hypnotized, "I thought you were beautiful when you were made out of flame."

Shateishael looks a bit apologetic, "Thankee, ma'am. Sorry I cain't manifest it 'gain f'ya." He pauses, then adds, "I thought though y'all liked gold too?"

The little leprechaun grins up at Slate, peeking at him through her eyelashes, "Oh, but that's what I'm saying. I thought the flame was beautiful. This, though, this is..." She gives a little shiver that looks almost indecent.

Shateishael tilts his head curious at Peony... then considers a moment, remembering her behavior when he gave her the little red-gold peony pendant. "Wouldja... like t'touch me? 'Zat whutcher sayin' y'd like?"

Peony laughs and continues petting Slate's forearm, "I am touching you, Slate, and I'm enjoying it."

Shateishael smiles a bit uncertainly, not quite sure how to react to Peony's clear... something, reaction... avariciousness? Lust? Well, she doesn't seem to be going crazy or anything, so... he guesses it's all right...? "Um, okay... wanna dance, then, 'r jus' keep touchin'?"

Peony laughs, eyes twinkling as she drags her eyes away from where she's petting Slate, catching his gaze, "I think dancing, because me just standing here petting you might be less-than-good."

Shateishael is amenable to dancing, although he supposes the touching isn't so bad either -- at least so far. He slides an arm about Peony preparatory to dancing, rumbling curiously, "Really? Howcum?"

Peony lets herself be guided into the dance, nestling her petite painted form against Slate's metallic one, grinning up at him, "Because it's likely to start rumors."

Shateishael hums quietly, enjoying the beautiful flowing movements of the dance as well as the music, and the lithe grace of his partner. A touch dreamily he rumbles, "Howzzat 'gain? Thoughtcha said nobody lissens t'Gaelach's rumors 'ceptin' his toadies?"

Peony rests her head against Slate's chest, nuzzling her cheek against it and almost purring, "Gaelach isn't the only person capable of starting a rumor, Slate..."

Shateishael smiles down at the almost besotted-seeming leprechaun. He doesn't quite 'get' her fascination with gold, but he's glad to feed it for her if she's enjoying herself so much! "Umm... mebbe I'm missin' sumpin' then... not very good at gossip, 'm 'fraid. So whut's th'rumor y'don' wan' started?" He finds himself gently stroking Peony's shining, fiery hair as they dance, and smiles again, this time at himself. Maybe her fascination with gold is something like the way he absolutely loves the shimmer and flow of hair?

Peony smiles up at Slate, eyes shimmering. She has to drag herself out of reverie to answer, "Mmm... untruths. About what we may or may not be doing."

Shateishael rumbles reassuringly, "Oh, ain't worried 'bout that. I'd jus' tell 'em it wuzn't true." He smiles again, adding, "Y'r eyes're real pretty t'night, Miz Peony... they're shimm'rin' like... like em'ralds."

Peony laughs and stretches up. Realizing she can't quite reach Slate's cheek, she blows him a kiss and laughs, "You have just found one of the many ways to a leprechaun's heart."

Shateishael blinks, then smiles and politely leans for her to reach him, "I did? Um... good? Y'like em'ralds too, then, Miz Peony?"

Peony laughs, still sounding a little dreamy, "Are they shiny and sparkly and rare and precious?"

Shateishael smiles slowly, suddenly understanding, and rumbles, "Gotta say yeah... but not as nice as th'way you sparkle, Miz Peony."

Peony laughs, hugging Slate as they sway in the grip of the music, "Mmm. See, like I said -- the way to a leprechaun's heart: compare her to treasure."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, gently wrapping his gleaming golden arms about the happily entranced leprechaun, "Treasure loses inna comparison, ma'am."

Peony sighs and laughs again, shaking her head a little, "You're quite charming sometimes, Slate. Thank you all the same."

Shateishael looks a bit puzzled, "Welcome, ma'am. Y'doubt me?"

Peony shakes her head again, voice drunk-sounding, "Not a bit."

Shateishael says, "Ah, 'kay." He continues to dance with her for a bit, enjoying the way her silky hair slides lightly across his hands as she moves in the dance... then rumbles a touch worriedly, "Y'r bein' near me while I'm golden's not gonna harm ya none, izzit?"

Peony takes a moment to parse that question, then looks up at Slate in puzzlement, "Why would it harm me, Slate? You're gold."

Shateishael's gaze is slightly concerned as he rumbles, "Dunno, sweetheart. Y'jus' soun'... a'mos' like y'r drunk?"

Peony shakes her head, laughing, "Mmm... feel a little stoned, but it won't hurt me. It'll wear off."

Shateishael nods, reassured, "'Kay, that I c'n live with." He continues dancing with the little leprechaun through the song, and will carefully escort her to the sidelines once the musical composition concludes. He doesn't want her tripping or anything, after all... and it feels oddly nice to have someone regard him with such pleasure, even if it is really because he's gold, rather than he himself being so enjoyed. Peony does her best to curtsey on the sidelines. She blows Slate another kiss and goes to settle down with a glass of water.

Meanwhile, Rosenstern has been with Soma, arm crooked in the fae's arm as he talks with some of his people. The area feels different, now that the pavilion has been taken down. Soma has been walking with Rosie, now and then reaching to stroke the line of his jaw or brush fingers over the silvery hair. The conversations with the Ethereals are quiet, with the bittersweet tang of a goodbye they knew was coming. Rosenstern remains quiet himself. He's going to miss (at least most of) the Ethereals he's met here during Burning Man. Soma's touches make him smile quietly to the fae, and every so often his own fingertips caress Soma's arm. Soma seems determined to speak with all of his people -- every last one. But he does first steer Rosie around to those Ethereals that the angels are already familiar and comfortable with.

Shateishael watches Peony leave with a touch of disappointment... then he sighs quietly, looking around. He feels both energized and cuddly -- it's an odd sensation. Maybe Bella would like to hug some? Or if she's busy... he checks to see who's available. Bella is standing with Bacchus, talking quietly. Shateishael sighs quietly, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, and continues to restlessly visually sweep the gathering. Is there anyone else who's alone, who might like to at least dance? Ayra isn't alone, but neither does she appear all the busy. She's sitting with her husbands, head tipped back to watch the stars.

Shateishael considers asking Ayra, for a heartbeat -- then shakes his head amusedly at himself. The poor woman's newly handfasted, and he's already considering separating her from her new sweeties? He'd better not be so rude, or Thea will surely nip him later, should she find out! He grins, then sighs and shrugs slightly, turning to look outwards towards Black Rock City. The excitement and dancing firelight out there are lovely in their own way as well, and he watches it for a moment, musing silently. He includes a small prayer of thanksgiving that Lilith missed the noisiness of the dome earlier, and another prayer for pretty Joe's peace of mind. With luck Lilith will indeed cut him loose, and the poor boy can start living his life again.

Rosenstern gently suggests to Soma at a random point, when it's discreet and not interrupting, if he would like to dance. Soma smiles down at Rosie and laughs quietly, "I'm thoughtless again, petal. It should be I who ask." He escorts Rosie among the few remaining Ethereals. The music is the same sort, liquid and dreamy, that has been playing the whole time. A woman's voice has joined the melody, singing wordlessly, making her voice just another instrument.

Rosenstern smiles to Soma. "You aren't being thoughtless," he says gently. "Anything but that. But they might like to see you dance as well, as bittersweet an occasion as this is."

Soma thinks on that a moment. "You have as good a mind as you do a heart, sweet rose-of-my-heart. It will be good to have someone like that by my side." His arms slide around the slight angel, wings flaring and fanning the desert air.

Rosenstern blushes, smiling and nestling himself into Soma's arms. "It's the night, my Lord. This is a hard night for you, your people... even us, saying goodbye to people we've met and come to like in the past couple of weeks."

Soma nods, one hand cupping the back of Rosie's head, fingers tangled in shimmering locks, "It's a painful night. But the one night of sadness and fear is worth the joy of the fortnight preceding it."

Rosenstern gently takes Soma's hands. "Fear?" he asks quietly.

Soma kisses Rosie's fingertips, eyes showing sadness, "Fear that we might not see the ones we parted from again. We might not be able to do this again. It is... a privilege we might not always have."

Rosenstern ducks his head a little, then looks up again, nodding softly as he leans up to kiss Soma's cheek. "I know," he says gently.

Soma closes his eyes and takes a deep, sighing breath. His voice is quiet, "My hopes are that what you and your beloveds help with will lessen the fear."

Rosenstern nods, smiling gently to him. "We will. Everything we can do, we will do." Soma nods and hugs Rosie to himself, twirling with the angel through the music. His skin and eyes have taken on a soft glow to match the mystical sparkle of the angel's skin. Rosenstern smiles quietly then, and loses himself into the dance. He whirls slowly and gently with Soma through the sweet, unstructured music.

Nearby, one of the new sidhe flutters up to Slate. This one isn't the familiar Iris, but one of the others, "Hello, Warrior!"

Shateishael smiles down at the pretty thing, "Hey there. C'ngratulations. 'M sorry, don' know y'r name...?" He adds admiringly, "Y'r wings're lookin' lovely. Like 'nother monarch butterfly, yeah?"

The new sidhe flares the beautiful wings. "They are! I love them..." The Ethereal twirls in place and wobbles a little, laughing, "My balance is different."

Shateishael chuckles as he watches, one hand unwittingly out slightly for a just-in-case catch. He rumbles, "So whutcha gon' do now, li'l butterfly?"

The sidhe laughs and does another twirl, "I don't know! I will get to be out among the humans. I will be able to hide myself now."

Shateishael curiously rumbles, "Y'all stay inna Marches till y'all, uh... Become, 'r whut?"

The Ethereal nods, wings carrying him a couple of feet off the ground, "Oh yes! Or hidden with someone like Karl. Hidden. Quiet like mice."

Shateishael chuckles again, "So now y'all get t'be cats 'nsteada mice, eh? Where y'plannin' on spendin' th'nex' year?"

The sidhe grins and twirls, "I will go with the Summer Lord for a fortnight. Learn to cloak myself in a human seeming. Then I will go into the world."

Shateishael smiles quietly down at the little Ethereal, "Good luck then. C'n stop by th'farm sometime if'n y'all wanna."

Bit by bit, people begin to slip away to their own tents and other dwellings,some simply to pallets they've laid out beneath the stars. The angels and the Summer Lord linger almost to the last, and then move back to Soma's yurt. The last few hours of the night before the sun rises on the day that will split them apart for a time are spent in languid, sweet torment and pleasure. For a while the sidhe, the Bright, and the Seraph devise several ways to push Rosenstern into that ecstatically blissful state of submission... and then they twine together in one last sweetly aching bout of lovemaking. Sleep washes over them just as the sun rises.

The next day is full of tears and goodbyes that masquerade as cheerful to hide the grief in them. Soma kisses Rosenstern goodbye with a sweet sadness that is almost palpable, even to those not as attuned to others as the Mercurian is, and whispers that he will see Rosie soon. Peony, oddly, doesn't stop by to stay goodbye -- by the time the angels are packed, the little leprechaun has disappeared. The drive home is strangely quiet and the angels come home to their home, the ranch almost seeming to embrace them on their return.

Rosenstern departs Black Rock City a little melancholy, but well before the time they get home he has returned to a more chipper self. Bella seems sort of languidly spent and spends much of the drive back home drifting in sleep. Shateishael drives relaxedly, mostly musing over the fascinating and perplexing events of the past two weeks... and occasionally smiling with quiet warmth at his lovers. How things have changed! He would never have guessed he could feel so full of joy and happiness with his beloveds. He has a lot to thank this new community for, he knows... and he hopes to have a long, long time in which to do so.

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Last modified: 2006-Dec-07 15:15:59

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